


Between Stars

by JamieisClassic



Series: Everyone must breathe, until their dying breath [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Biting, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Krem is a good friend, Little comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Rimming, mild rough play, napping together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieisClassic/pseuds/JamieisClassic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the past is better left untouched, sometimes it forces its way into your hand anyway. Dorian learns this the hard way and his friends try to save him from himself, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Fast

**Author's Note:**

> They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  
> They may not mean to, but they do.  
> They fill you with the faults they had  
> And add some extra, just for you.  
> \- Philip Larkin, This Be the Verse.
> 
>  
> 
> A little on Dorian's back story, why he left home and all. I followed cannon mostly just adjusted to modern times. Also seeing as they actually have ministers in Iraq, like in Canada, I made Halward one of those. Also, just thought I would mention that the 'implied/referenced self harm' tag is there for semi-intentional starvation that is relatively minimal and very implied, so y'all know. Thought I'd tag it just in case.

Dorian peered inquisitively at the mirror. It was strange, his make up was perfect, concealer hiding the bags that had formed under his eyes from a recent lack of sleep, but something about his face still screamed silently that he was under slept. Trevelyan would definitely notice. He sighed and turned away to dress quickly, grabbing whatever clean clothes were closest to his reach. He hoped he didn't look too monstrous as he stepped out his front door to head to the offices, because while Trevelyan would notice a tired demeanour she wouldn't comment. Vivienne would, and knowing his luck Dorian would probably meet her in some unfortunately public space where she attempted to subtly show superiority by telling him he looked 'dreadful' as if she was helping rather than embarrassing him.

A deep seated heaviness settled into Dorian's body as he headed towards the research wing, going up one floor too many to check in with Trevelyan first. He was given the go ahead to continue his work on translating an old medical text from Turkey that was apparently relevant enough in a modern context to be the cause of a dispute between two of the companies the Inquisition had ties to, and was currently stuck in the middle of. Oh the joys of international sociopolitical friendship building. Dorian was happy for it though, translating was quiet work and not that much effort as long as he was familiar with the languages presented, and in this case he was. Although breadth in language had not been considered that important throughout his general education, he found learning languages both interesting and rewarding, and took any and all opportunities presented to him throughout his life to do so. For the most part he spoke languages he had encountered – Turkish, Hindi and Russian being high on that list from his father's political endeavours – and of course English was his educational language from a young age, Arabic being native. 

Once seated with computer and documents in hand, however, that weight he had felt since leaving home decided to spread out into his limbs and any energy he had scrounged to put himself fully into this work dissipated. He puttered, translating the easy sentences and mostly staring blankly at his laptop's screen. Shaking his head with force he resolved to work productively, and got a few paragraphs in until that cloud of hazy brainlessness would float back in and halt him. His work then became chore-like and lacklustre, a July sun being blocked by invading puffs of white that gave a summer day just enough of a chill to be unenjoyable, and it seemed the more he cursed those clouds for ruining the picnic the more insistent they became about ruining it. 

Dorian became so enveloped in not being enveloped he hardly noticed the passing of a typical lunch hour. Or dinner hour. Actually, until one of the quiet research assistants – her name started with an 'H' he was sure of it – approached him and told him she was heading home for the night, and he should remind the janitor to lock up, did Dorian even realize the day had passed under his fingertips. He flipped through the scant pages he had completed with a defeated sigh. No point in staying other than to torture himself more thoroughly; Dorian couldn't even gather enough energy for his standard self-chastising at a day unproductively spent. He shuffled together the loose papers strewn about into a decent pile, placing them between the screen and keyboard of his laptop when he closed it to put it in his bag. Standing revealed aching joints not previously noticed and a grumbling stomach to boot. Dorian resigned himself to Chinese delivery and pulled out his phone to call, hoping to minimize delivery time by also having to make it home, knowing he wouldn't have the energy to cook anything. 

 

Dorian stepped into his not-so-new-anymore apartment, dumping his work things on the dining table while heading to his bedroom to replace his dress pants and tie for something comfortable and warm. As much as he loathed to admit, those soccer pants Krem had recommended he try were actually very comfortable, and when he emerged from his room some minutes later in his undershirt and Adidas soccer pants a glance at his reflection had him giggling. All he needed was the matching zip up and a cigarette and he'd look like a total chav. 

A knock at the door startled Dorian from his consideration of chavs into consideration of how the hell his Chinese had gotten to his door through the security of the building, never mind he'd only ordered it less than 10 minutes ago. Yet when he peered through the peep hole on his door he saw, speak of the devil, Krem standing there looking a little awkward. He unlatched the chain and opened it up.

“Hey Krem,” Dorian greeted the younger man, “Can I do something for you?” 

“Just heard the news, wanted to make sure you were alright,” Krem gave him a sheepish smile as Dorian's face fell. He ushered the man in quietly.

“I suppose it's too much to hope you haven't mentioned anything to Bull isn't it?” Dorian felt that same weight from before crushing down on his lungs and he just wanted to sleep for the next decade. 

“Why I'm here actually, wanted to check with you before I said anything,” Krem sighed, “I'm guessing from that response the answer would be a negative on telling the chief about it then?” 

“I know you hate keeping things from him...” Dorian trailed off, not wanting to make Krem do something he didn't want to.

“This isn't about me, Dorian,” was the firm reply, and he wanted to argue, say that Krem's relationship with Bull was important, that their trust shouldn't be broached even for this, but he didn't have the energy.

He felt himself shake a little, the weight in his limbs and chest almost closing in on him, but Krem wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him over to the couch where they both sat heavily. Dorian whispered, “Thanks, Krem,” and was glad Krem didn't ask for what because he didn't know for himself all too surely. 

They sat for a while, Krem getting the call and the bill when the Chinese food arrived, and Dorian made a mental note to pay him back at some point, but a cruel little voice in his head sneered something about Krem's family not being important enough to get caught up in something like this. That means you'll never pay him back some other part of his brain griped and he just wished the voices in his head, particularly the ones that sounded strangely similar to his father's, would all just shut up. 

“How'd you hear anyway?” Dorian asked as Krem rooted in his kitchen for 'decent' chopsticks, the man had some strange fear of the wooden ones that came in a delivery bag.

“Talking to my mum on the phone, actually. She mentioned that she wanted to come visit for a little while, business had been bad since the minister of Labour had been caught in some huge scandal and her employees all went off to strike with the union for his imprisonment. No employees, nothing to sell. Damn shame arthritis fucked her fingers, she used to be a damn fine embroiderer,” Krem cleared his throat, “Anyhow, I figured it sounded interesting but realized there was no news on it outside Iraq, blocked from this IP and everything. Asked a few friends from there for what details they could provide and the name was catching my ear. Suppose your mother told you?” 

“Funny how that seems to be a cross-class connection to home. Irritating thing about mothers, though, is that they expect you to feel a certain way at certain events,” Dorian sighed, “Apparently my laughing at the news of my father being caught doing heinous things and finally being locked away wasn't the right reaction, so his actions haven't only cost me a father, but a mother as well.” 

Dorian picked at his chowmein then, not wanting to bitch too much to a man that didn't have a father at all. Not to say Dorian did either, in some manners of speaking, but that always seemed to matter less to those who had physically lost someone they loved. Krem's missing his father after passing away was so dissimilar to Dorian's apathy at the prospect of his own father's death that he dared not push the man comforting him and asking after his well being.

Krem gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, “You need to talk about it you know I'm willing to listen.” 

“Thank you Cremisius,” Dorian leaned into the touch on his shoulder, “And before you bitch I know you hate it when I call you that.”

Krem just snorted, pulling Dorian into a hug. The two men sat in that embrace silently, no need for words to accompany the comfort. Dorian mulled over his father's actions – letting sex trafficking and underpaid child labour pass to gain personal social advantages seemingly the least of his crimes – and wondered where his parents had gone wrong that Dorian ended up on the other side of the world being told through a telephone rather than back home jumping to the legal and social defence of his father. Perhaps this is why they'd encouraged him towards law before he was practically begged into Medical school and couldn't well refuse the dean of medicine. 

“I'm starting to think I understand why you ran,” Krem said quietly, breath displacing a few stray strands of Dorian's hair. 

“What my father does, and has done to others, was always a concern even if I never understood what was truly happening. It didn't make me run though, it just made me angry. I would see important men come through the house, eat fine dinners, shake my father's hand and then four years later see that they were some distant dictator or were involved in slave work and it sickened me, but only gave me resolve to fight harder for positive change. I saw and knew the evil I fought, knew my ways around and into it, which gave me power to challenge it,” Dorian shook his head slightly, “I ran because of a conversation. That kind of seems pathetic but that conversation changed my outlook. I'd always been so eager to please my father, I was and still am his only living heir and that means something to him. I made the mistake of thinking that meant I meant something to him as well. I learned the hard way that he doesn't, not an ounce of his heart holds any affection for my personal being, and when he told be to marry a girl to advance his political position I refused. Then he told me again but with the counter threat that he would have be 'accidentally' killed in a mosque bombing if I didn't agree. It was in all likelihood an empty threat but the thought that he would even say such a thing... That's when I ran.” 

Krem was quiet, looking for something to say and finding little of worth other than placation or false implications of understanding. “Your mother?” he asks instead, hoping for Dorian's sake she wasn't as bad as father dearest.

“Didn't get much say. You know how it is, she frowns on the 'side lines' while he does what he wants. He could have her put in jail for adultery with a few words to the right people. She won't risk her families' reputation for that, they have some backbone, probably why she was married to my father in the first place, but it's a dying name that she will fight to preserve.” 

“Sounds like a bit of an outstanding woman to me,” Krem smiled a little, his mum would like the sound of her. 

“If you can get past her cold smiles and Kabuki mask, yeah she has her moments,” Dorian laughed a little, “Just don't get on the wrong side of the line or she'll have your head.”   
“Kinda like you, eh?” Krem nudged him, but Dorian just pulled out of his position against Krem's chest to pout at him. Then he yawned, breaking the pout and Krem laughed, “Okay c'mon you big baby you look like hell. I'm putting you to bed.” 

“I can get to bed perfectly well on my own, thank you.” Dorian sniffed, “Plus I doubt you want to stand there and watch me wash off all this make up.” 

Krem made a face a nodded, making Dorian laugh, then extracted himself from Dorian's couch and helped the other man to his feet. They wandered to the door and Dorian wished the younger man farewell with a lingering hug and a smile. Despite all the initial tension caused by shared yet completely different upbringings Krem had grown to be a good friend of Dorian's, which was kind of strange all things considered. He didn't question the comfort the younger man brought by presence alone,though, and as Dorian headed into his bathroom to clean up before bed a smile seemed fixed on his face. 

However, when his phone rang on the bathroom counter as he was spitting out the remains of the toothpaste he'd been brushing with his mood diminished. The only people likely to call at this hour were either Trevelyan, if she really needed him for something, or one of his parents. In neither case would the call be pleasant, though at least he didn't shrivel at the sound of his boss's voice. 

Rinsing his mouth quickly as he picked up his phone, he answered, “Hello?” and held his breath.

“Dorian,” an all to familiar voice replied and his breath rushed out in a sigh.

“Father,” Dorian half sneered and hoped the call was being monitored and timed by some prison guard so that this could be civil and short, but considering Minister Pavus' status Dorian doubted it. Damn. “So tell me, is this some plea for me to come bail you out now that my mother is enjoying her freedom? Or perhaps a last attempt to get me to agree to marry that poor girl, get you out of that cell? Unless you've finally decided you need to apologize, but I doubt prison has broken you enough for that. Yet.”

On the other line his father sighed, breath making the receiver crackle and Dorian wince, “I suppose I should have expected you would still be angry with me. It was unwise to delude myself that you would ever see reason.” 

If Dorian could see his father he imagined the man was shaking his slightly greying hair with defeat at his son's idiocy. Dorian scoffed, “Perhaps you are the one without reason, believing I would ever bend myself to your self-serving whims like some pathetic child-”

“You are a pathetic child,” his father interrupted, “To selfish to consider what was best for yourself beyond short sighted want, not willing to sacrifice a little comfort for the good of our family, our name. Do you think I really wanted to marry your mother? Do you think I wanted to sit at dinner smiling in front of genocidal dictators? No, but it was what my father expected of me, so I did it. And after he was gone I continued because I had the maturity to know it was best. You ran away like a child from the responsibility I held you to.” 

Dorian was quiet, anger closing his throat as much as panic. He'd never wanted this conversation so he'd run but here he was in his supposedly safe place having it anyway, “Your world was never mine, father, I know you cannot understand that but it's the truth. I did not run from responsibility I ran from you. I ran from your hands the minute I realized they were not worthy of controlling me anymore,” his voice was soft so it did not shake, calm was power under duress, or so his mother had told him, “You told me no one would accept me for who I was, that marrying a powerful name would make me more palatable, but I think I'm doing just fine now. I actually have friends, a boyfriend, and fuck you for convincing me the only happiness I would ever find was in wealth and power.”

“Whatever happiness you have now is nothing, Dorian. Nothing in comparison to what I could have given you if you'd only trusted me.” Halward sounded defeated, like he was trying to explain the expanses of the universe to a toddler. 

Dorian bristled, “I did trust you father, and you fucked it up!” 

He was seething, how could his father speak to him as if he had no knowledge of the world. Hell, Dorian had lived at the lowest, barely eating for the sake of decent housing, he probably knew more about the real world than his father ever could. His father was going to prison, so perhaps he would learn that there was more to life than political power and money, but Dorian doubted it. When you live a lie for so long you become one yourself there is little anyone or anything can do to get you back from under the heaps of bullshit. That was something Bull would say Dorian thought, and snorted to himself. 

“Well, I apologize for calling then, I was hoping perhaps to hear something kind from you before I diminish in this hovel of a prison but I suppose that hasn't been earned on either of our parts,” Halward sighed again, “Goodbye Dorian, this may well be the last time you hear my voice.”

“I'll be better for it,” Dorian snapped, but the line was already dead by the time he'd finished speaking. With the conclusion of the conversation, all of Dorian's anger dissipated into a heavy fog in his head, forcing him to the ground until he was curled into a ball with his back against the cabinets. He didn't notice the tears until the fabric against his cheeks became cool and damp as he began to sob. And suddenly he shook with them, stronger and stronger as they wracked his body like dry heaves. His throat ached from how tight it was and his head swam from too little air and too many tears, but what hurt the most was the little sparks of anxious energy that buzzed through him, he wanted to hit something and scream and fall apart all at once and it was so utterly overwhelming he just sobbed all the more. 

Time slipped by quietly, and morning found Dorian curled on his bathroom floor in pieces. Anger still thrummed through his body, but it swam in currents of anxiety and a strange apathy that shouldn't logically co-exist with his over sensitivity, but there it was. He cared that he didn't care which made him angry that he didn't care which made him want all the more desperately to just give up on everything and go to sleep for the next decade. Running a frustrated hand through his hair Dorian attempted to stretch out his legs and grunted with pain as his knees and back protested. Today was not going to be fun. 

Despite the immense pain in his legs and back from sleeping curled against his bathroom cabinets Dorian managed to get himself off the floor and into his bedroom, where he realized that despite it feeling like late morning it was actually only nearing five and he had plenty of time to stretch out his sore limbs until his alarm went off in an hour. He padded to the kitchen and stared at his coffee maker. He wanted coffee, needed it really after the night he'd had, but any energy to make the bitter stuff seemed distant and he had to practically drag himself through the process of grinding the beans, putting the grounds in a filter and dumping some water in the damn thing. He pushed the 'brew' button after what felt like a battle for both his sanity and fresh coffee, and while he was loath to admit it the conversation he'd had with his father had opened scars he'd been pleasantly ignoring since leaving home. The weight from the previous day seemed almost ready to consume him, everything felt like too much and too little all at once; he found himself simultaneously wanting to launch himself off the top of the building, and not move at all. He may very well have started in on another sobbing fit then had his coffee maker not made an obnoxious beep to say the coffee was ready. 

As quarter to seven came into being Dorian was ready, or rather very much not ready but knowing he would never be, to go to work and figured being a little early into the office would at least minimize the people around for him to deflect and be closed off with. Whatever lack of energy had caused his lack of productivity the day before was back in full force but this time Dorian had reason to work enough to make up for it. If he didn't want to talk to anybody he had to be working productively and so he did. All day. Through any and all potential times where food would regularly be required until it was the precise hour he regularly went home, at which time he packed up and took the most direct route back to his apartment. He figured the less people he talked to the less would notice something was wrong. 

He arrived home and, ignoring the ache in his belly, went almost straight to bed, phone messages from Krem and Sera going unanswered, and the ones from Bull going unseen as he slipped into restless sleep. Upon waking the next morning he did the same he had the last morning, every action a struggle but the least difficult one available. It was easier that way, so he continued on, rinse and repeat every morning until he was a numb shell of himself wandering through his tasks and meetings with a dull blankness in his eyes where there had been intelligence once.


	2. In Their Lairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem and Sera toss Dorian a rope, which he takes hesitantly. Meanwhile Bull comes home and hurts at hearing about Dorian's state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the trouble, I suppose  
>  My blood runs red but my body feels so cold  
>  I guess I could swim for days in the salty sea  
>  But in the end the waves will discolor me
> 
> So I take off my face  
>  Because it reminds me how it all went wrong  
>  And I pull out my tongue  
>  Because it reminds me how it all went wrong  
>  And I cough up my lungs  
>  Because they remind me how it all went wrong  
>  But I leave in my heart  
>  Because I don't want to stay in the dark  
>  \- Of Monsters and Men, Organs
> 
>  
> 
> So I definitely thought this would be done in two chapters, but it's gotten away from me a little and now I'll guess three. Sorry bout that y'all!

Krem lounged in front of his TV watching rugby, funny how he could watch it for hours even after playing it for hours. Must be love. He took a deep drink of his beer and pulled it away to peer at it with suspicion. Skinner said it was the same stuff he always bought, local company he'd grown to like since moving, but it tasted a little off. Considering the little snicker Dalish had tried to hide behind a cough when they'd delivered it as a 'gift for dealing with Bull's new boy' he shouldn't really be surprised. Any gift from them was probably tainted in some way, though how they fucked with a whole box of unopened beer bottles he would never comprehend. 

A knock on his door startled him from his thoughts and he quickly hurried over to open it. He'd been expecting Rocky, or maybe Stitches, but not Sera, who bounced on the balls of her feet and gave him a little grin. 

“Krem! I need your help,” she stated matter-o-factually.

“I'm not putting bees in Cullen's desk again, that poor man has been though enough,” Krem just shook his head but waved her inside anyway.

“No silly, it's about prissy pants!” Krem gave her a confused look and she huffed, “New office boy, uhh, Dorian. Yeah, have you seen round cause I haven't seen 'im bout the office an I think he might a ripped off, eh?”

“I saw him a week or so ago, like Thursday I think, he didn't seem about to book it,” Krem thought about it, though, and realized he hadn't seen or heard from the man since that encounter, “I sent him a text last night but he never replied. Kinda figured he wasn't sure how to put, 'getting drunk on beer and watching a rugby game offends my upbringing and sensibilities' nicely so just didn't reply.”

“Well yeah, that's the thing, I haven't seen 'im either and I was getting worried, like kinda ya know, but then one of the researchy girls, don't know her name but she got pretty good tits yeah. Anyway, she was sayin he comes in and works for like hours straight without eatin or nothing then just goes home. He never talks to no one or shit. I thought pretty boys like 'im liked talking to people, getting compliments'n stuff eh?” Sera cocked her head clearly thinking about what she'd said, “Yeah well, thought you might like to know cause, I mean we're all friends or whatever and we should take care of each other right? Like...” 

“Yeah I get it, Sera. That doesn't sound like him, I don't know,” Krem sighed, he was too tired to deal with Dorian acting strange, but his behaviour was setting warning bells off in Krem's brain, “Why don't we go give him a visit, he can put our minds to ease.” 

And that is how Krem found himself standing in front of Dorian's door with Sera and being frankly ignored. Sera seemed a little angrier than Krem had expected, though perhaps through all their sneering at each other a real bond had formed. Or Dorian just happened to be a very good wing man for a very gay girl. Either really.

Sera knocked more aggressively, “I know you're in there prissy pants, so open up or I'll break in.” 

A little sound was heard from within that confirmed Dorian's presence but there was no sign he would be letting them in. Krem sighed, “Sera he bolts his door we can't even break in.”

“Not this way, but the girl above him is sweet on me, thinks I'm some fancy hacker chick or some pish. I'll fancy she'd let us in and we could just hop down the floor, doubt Dorian sees any reason in locking his balcony slider, eh?” She grinned at Krem and he slowly, perhaps lately, came to the realization that she was very much going to force this issue and if he didn't comply he would become a target of some nasty prank probably involving bees or some terrible Facebook photos being spread around the office.

“Alright, Sera, lead the way,” Krem just sighed and resigned himself to whatever fate lay ahead. Damn she was almost as bad as the chief.

So Krem was lead up to the room above and met a pretty brunette who he remembered working in design. Her name was Dagna, or something like that anyway, and she seemed more than happy to let Sera use her apartment for getting into Dorian's. The thing about Dagna was she giggled so cutely and had such an adorable smile that Krem almost didn't mind doing all this. Almost. But Sera was beckoning him from where she hung off Dagna's balcony and he gave the small woman a little salute before spotting Sera down. He climbed over the railing next, butterflies turning his stomach at the 14-story drop. Taking a deep breath he moved his hands down the vertical rails and perched into a squat, then let one leg drop and leaned that whole side of his body mostly down, feeling for the rail. His toe was just brushing it, so he dropped the other leg and got the balls of his feet decently securely on it before moving one hand to the underside of Dagna's balcony to push his more firmly onto his feet. Slowly the other hand followed until he could simply hop down to Dorian's deck and was grateful for Sera's steadying hand on his shoulder.

Upon sliding the door from balcony to dining room, which Sera was right about not being locked, Krem felt something wasn't right. It was barely six o'clock on a Saturday evening and the place looked empty, unlived in. No lights were on despite it being dark out, and having been for a couple hours thanks to the winter clouds and rain, but Dorian's regular shoes were by the door and his bag was on the table implying he hadn't left to do anything but perhaps work earlier in the day. 

Sera and Krem poked around the main living area for a little while and found no trace of not only Dorian, but general civilization. No dishes in or near the sink, no cups out of place, not even anything in the garbage bin except an empty box of Chinese takeout that, from the smell, was at least a week old. His fridge had expired food, mouldy cheese, and past-edible-ripeness fruit. Krem was feeling less and less easy as they looked about and when they opened the bedroom door to see a quivering figure under the blankets of the bed he almost wanted to throw up. The energy in the room was making him shake and Sera hung back from the bed looking frightened, like they'd walked in to see a corpse. 

When Krem sat gingerly on the bed and shook Dorian gently he almost feared she was right, but the man roused slightly under his grip. Slowly coming to consciousness, Dorian turned to face Krem, squinting to see him in the dark. Krem felt bile rising in his throat at the sight of Dorian. His cheeks were obviously sullen, even in the near darkness, and his hair was oily and mussed. Krem had come here looking for a friend but a ghost was all he'd found. 

Dorian grumbled then, “Krem what are you doing here, how did you even get in?”

Krem wanted to cry at how weak his voice sounded, “Sera noticed you hadn't been around so we came to investigate. We knocked but you didn't answer so we porch jumped from Dagna's a floor up.” 

Dorian made a considering noise, “Sera's here to?”

“Right here eh?” Sera called from her spot by the door, still looking scared, “Heard it round you weren't so good so I thought me and Krem could check up on our bud. Parently I was right too eh?” 

“I appreciate the concern but I really am just fine,” Dorian tried for arrogance but sounded too pathetic for it. 

“No you're not,” Krem all but growled, “You look dead, Dorian, I though you were until I woke you up. You can't do this alright. Just tell me how to help and I will.”

“Me too!” Sera piped up from the end up the bed, and pinched Dorian's foot from on top of the blankets, making him curl into a smaller ball than he already was. 

“Please let me make you something to eat, at least? How about some toast? I think I saw some bread in your freezer.” Krem offered and Dorian hesitated, nodding slowly.

Krem gave him a smile and headed into the kitchen, despairingly glad to be out of the dreary room. Sera flicked on the lights while he rummaged in the freezer for bread. Removing two slices from the bag and placing them in the toaster, he closed back up the bread bag securely before returning it to the freezer. Dorian emerged from his room not long after, dressed in baggy clothes probably meant to hide how slim he'd become, and Krem forced a smile as Sera sat him down in the living room and starting chattering away about trucks or something. The toast popped up and Krem put the two slices on a plate and brought it over to the living room. He sat next to Dorian on the couch as Sera was saying something about the Leafs and the preseason. Dorian didn't seem to understand but nodded anyway. 

“Here, some dry toast,” Krem handed the older man the plate and got a tired but honest smile in return, and was glad to see that in proper light Dorian didn't look nearly as drawn or thin as Krem had first noticed. 

“So anyway that's why no one likes taking me to hockey games round here cause I'm always shouting 'bout how the Leafs are gonna make it this year, and don't give a shit 'bout the Canuck fucks or whatever. Not my fault this side of the grain's got a shitty team.” she ranted. 

“And remind me about all the success the Leafs have had over the last couple years?” Krem taunted and she scoffed. 

“Well, I mean like, I mean... Okay but this is gonna be the year yeah? I mean fuckin eh right?” She sighed, then muttered quieter, “This really is gonna be the year.” 

“What are you two going on about?” Dorian asked looking confused.

Krem and Sera exchanged a look of shock and horror before replying simultaneously, “HOCKEY!” 

Dorian just laughed, unfazed by their horror, “That would explain why I have no idea how to even comprehend anything you're saying. Never even seen the game played.”

At that Sera went into some rant about how Dorian needed to 'Canadian-up real proper like' and how she would introduce him to trucks and Molson and hockey rituals, Dorian just laughing along and snorting every time she said it 'hackey'. Krem smiled at her antics too, he and Sera had become rather strange friends after an unfortunate incident involving a man mistaking him for a woman and Sera jumping to his defence by means of threatening to run the guy over in her truck. He could have taken care of himself, but this tiny little thing scaring off a big manly man was just too funny for him to be bothered by it. Then, mind you, he got to know that tiny little thing and realized she was very much something to be feared.

By the end of the evening Dorian seemed in slightly lightened spirits and while Krem knew he would go back to hiding in his bed for the rest of the night he felt accomplished. The three of them made plans for breakfast the next morning, Krem and Sera agreeing to bring ingredients and cook Dorian breakfast in the comforts of his home, as long as he let them in. 

 

Krem headed to the Save-On-Foods just a block or two from the apartment/office complex and as he was picking up a basket at the door his phone buzzed in his back pocket. An incoming text. He shifted the basket to his right hand and reached back to grab it. A cursory glance told him it was from Bull, so he opened the message to see what it said.

Just got into Van International. Sorry didn't tell you coming home, don't need pick up. Be home soon, get food. 

Krem snorted, of course Bull wanted him to get food. Krem replied something vaguely affirmative knowing Bull didn't care for texting much, heading into the grocery store to peruse (raid) their meat department. He settled for t bone steaks once he looked over his options, and grabbed some fresh greens to go on the side. Bull was a kale kinda guy, and even if Krem didn't have a taste for it enough salad dressing made anything decently edible. Krem also grabbed some fresh dinner rolls before heading back to the meat section in search of bacon. Thick cut back bacon, definitely the way to go. A carton of eggs and bottle of orange juice later Krem was ready to head home. He went through the check out, chatting pleasantly with the middle aged cashier who thought he was cute, and headed back to the apartment to meet Bull. 

He had only just gotten to putting the cold items away when Bull walked through the door, suitcase in hand, looking like absolute hell. 

“Boston that bad?” Krem asked over the refrigerator door.

“No, I mean Boston is a great city, lots of sights and good food, it's just that it's filled with these things called,” Bull purposely made a face, “Americans.” 

Krem laughed, “Well chief I got us some steaks so what do you say you clean up while I cook and then we can watch Friends reruns and drink this weird beer Skinner gave me and eat, eh?” 

“That sounds perfect, Krem-puff,” Bull grinned as he dragged himself off to his bedroom. After a few minutes Krem heard the shower start and smiled to himself as he prepped the steaks and started heating up the barbecue on their slightly over sized porch. 

Some while later Krem and Bull were comfortably seated on the couch drinking the weird beer – which Bull theorized was just a different beer put in the bottles of the one they regularly drank, though how Skinner charmed her way into that neither of them knew – and eating their meals while watching some stupid rom-com about watches that tell you when you'll meet your soul mate or something equally ridiculous. 

At some point in the film a man passed in the background that looked vaguely Dorian-like and Bull mentioned it, making Krem freeze. It had been easy while Bull was away to pretend the issues with Dorian's family were not something he would struggle to keep from the man, but now that he sat here next to Krem, along with seeing Dorian earlier Krem felt a little puff of anxiety bloom in his chest. 

“You alright there Krem?” Bull asked, pausing the movie to look at him. Krem just shook his head mildly.

“It's Dorian, actually. He's um, sick I suppose would be the right term,” Krem took a deep breath, “I'm not entirely sure what all happened but I'd been checking on him, like you said, made sure he was settling in alright. He was, too. Charmed everyone in research well enough. Then I don't see him for a while, just kinda figured he'd been busy or something, maybe finally going out with friends. Sera shows up at my door earlier this evening and tells me he's been shut off at work, barely talking to anyone, not taking lunch breaks, and she says we should go check on him. He doesn't answer the door but I mean we can hear him inside so we know he's there. I want to just go home but Sera was right not to. We... we broke in and found him.. He looked like he hadn't eaten in a week Bull I thought I was going to be sick.” 

“Shit,” Bull growls and he looks like he's trying to come up with decent reasons not to barge up to the man's room as they speak, “He's alright though? I mean within reason considering...”

Krem took a shaky breath, “Yeah I got him to eat a couple pieces of toast. And Sera and I are going over tomorrow late morning to have breakfast with him. You should come, I'm sure he's missed you these last few weeks.” 

Bull scratched blunt nails over his buzzed short hair with a grunt, “Is it stupid that I feel responsible?” 

“Not anymore than it being stupid that I feel responsible.” The men sat in silence until Bull just turned the movie back on and at least that filled the room a little as they ate quickly and departed to their respective rooms. 

 

Bull wakes feeling uneasy and sees large red numbers blaring a gross, pre-dawn number at his from his side table, but despite the early hour he cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. With a sigh he sits in bed, wishing that his body had at least waited until it was 4:30, where a good run would put him in place to grab Starbucks on his way home, but as it stood 3:15 was too early for that. Resigning himself to at least a hot shower when he got home, Bull stood and dressed in loose shorts and a rugby shirt from a few seasons ago, heading to the door to slip into sneakers and sneak out the door. The guard by the door asked where he was going and he just said for a run, ignoring the strange look Rylen gave him. 

After taking a moment to stretch out his hamstrings and calves Bull began at a medium pace, letting the frigid air of the January morning burn in his lungs and sting his face as he picked up a little speed. The impact of hitting pavement sent a rough jolt into his knees, one of the reasons Bull had always kind of hated inner-city jogs, but today each step seemed to chip away little by little at the block of tension resting in the back of his mind, and soon all he could concentrate on was the condensation of breath misting over his lips leaving them damp and the sweat rapidly cooling on his skin. Ragged breathes dragged through his lungs and he stopped at the top of the Granville bridge to try to calm his heart a little. Looking over the water was peaceful, particularly in his exercise-narrowed mind, and as the sky started to lighten a little into more of a pre-dawn light rather than full midnight darkness the anxiety that had latched onto him seemed to loosen enough for him to flick it away. 

A shiver sent him back into running, this time the rest of the way back over the bridge, finishing his loop and heading back into his building. Rylen gave him a nod as he headed into the elevator, and while he was heading up all 15 floors to his apartment he made sure to stretch out his tired legs and back once more. Krem was, unsurprisingly, still sleeping when Bull entered, and he hoped a shower wouldn't wake him as it sometimes did. Checking the time on the oven display he realized he hadn't been running for much over 45 minutes, meaning it was despairingly barely past four and while Bull would normally like being up early, knowing that meant he had hours until he could check in on Dorian was making him irate. 

He showered quickly, never needing long to scrub sweat from his body and scalp, and considered simply going back to bed, but doubted he would fall asleep. Instead he decided to brew up a pot of tea, grinding coffee would wake Krem for sure, and get some work done. While in Boston he had gotten himself knees deep in a lot of inter company discussions that he would need to start drafting contracts for eventually, and figured there was no better time than now. It wasn't so much simple work as it was mechanical, formulaic even in difficultly, and he poured himself into it as best he could. 

What felt like both an eternity and a blink later Krem emerged from his room with a grumble that sounded something like 'coffee' but Bull couldn't be sure. Or well, he could because he'd known the man for years, though the sound itself was rather unintelligible. Krem futzed around the kitchen, making himself coffee and grumbling about this and that, before eventually joining Bull at the dining room table. 

“Couldn't sleep eh?” Krem asked, though his tone sounded more like a statement than anything.

“Yeah, up around three so I went for a run. It helped clear my head up a bit,” Bull looked into Krem's irritated expression and asked, “What?”

“Let me guess, you forgot your brace?” a single eyebrow raised on the younger man's face.

“It was, perhaps, not on my mind at the time,” Krem sighed at Bull's words, “You know for someone who calls me out on being a mother hen you sure do a lot of doting yourself.”

“Just want you at your best for the game next week, chief,” Krem grumbled. 

Bull went back to looking over contract outlines while Krem drank his coffee quietly. “When are we meeting with Dorian, again?” Bull asked.

“Around 10:30,” Krem replied, a glance at the time making him ruffle his hair dramatically, “S'pose that's in less than an hour now, should probably take a shower so Dorian doesn't call me something mean.” 

 

Sera was already at Dorian's when Krem and Bull arrived, and she perched on the kitchen counter watching Dorian make coffee. Krem presented everyone with the bacon, eggs and orange juice he'd bought the day before, while Sera pulled a few fresh loaves of sourdough and her own eggs from her reusable grocery bag. Looked like french toast was on the menu too. Bull grinned. 

Sera and Krem set to work in the kitchen, somehow managing to trip over each other enough to piss them both off a little, but not enough to damage any of the food. Bull sat at the dining table with Dorian and watched the two of them attempt to dance around each other. Dorian sat quietly, enjoying the show and Bull's warmth next to him, whilst enjoying his coffee. After what felt like ages all the food was ready and put on serving plates, syrup and butter already on the table.

Everyone set into their food, though Dorian less enthusiastically then the rest and grateful when no one mentioned anything. Sera made many a rude comment about Krem's 'bacon' whilst Bull nagged her for not bringing any whipped-krem for the french toast. Boisterous laughter filled the room brightly and while something in the back of Dorian's mind needled him for reasons the people before him were, in fact, before him rather than doing something more interesting with their time, the part of him that he'd suppressed for the last week after the call from his father – the part mumbling somebody pay attention to me and notice something is wrong even if I don't want to acknowledge it and will deny it when you ask and probably make you feel like an ass – was grinning like a little child at all these happy people that wanted to make him happy. He didn't think he deserved it, no, but that had never stopped him from wanting before. Yet here he was with happiness undeserved in hand, and not one single clue what to do with it. 

Plates slowly cleared and just as Sera began to groan and hold her stomach Bull finished up his last few bites of french toast. Dorian started to clear the table and Bull got up to help, carrying the majority of the serving plates over to the sink. They set to work rinsing everything and putting what fit in the dishwasher in the dishwasher, and cleaning the rest by hand. Bull took up drying duty if not because it meant he got to irritate Dorian by constantly asking where everything went, because he got to wield a nice kitchen towel to flick at the smaller man and watch him squawk. 

Between the two of them it didn't take long to finish up the dishes and they headed back to the table where Krem and Sera were watching something on Krem's phone with unblinking eyes. 

“Care to share with the class, Krem-brule?” Bull teased. 

“Leafs highlights, chief, missed the game last night,” Krem grumbled, not sparing a glance over the screen. Dorian felt a knot in his stomach, he'd made Krem and Sera miss something that was clearly important in order to take care of him. 

“Yeah I mean I went up to Dagna's to watch it with her, yanno the later broadcast, but we got a little uhhh... distracted,” Sera giggled madly and it made Dorian feel a bit better that it hadn't been on his part that she missed it. Even still he could help feeling he didn't deserve all the attention and care he was getting. 

Krem mumbled something quietly as the video ended and Sera nodded, then they both stood. Sera stated she had to go meet up with Dagna for coffee, Krem had to go help one of the boys move some shit around their apartment. Standing as well to see them out, Dorian was surprised when he found thin arms wrapped around his middle and a blonde head against his chest. He returned the small woman's hug tentatively, though that same wariness didn't follow into the hug he gave Krem. He wished them farewell as they headed down the hallway together, throwing him a knowing smile as Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist from behind. 

“Come on, lets sit.” Dorian was lead back to the table, though this time he was seated in Bull's lap rather than a chair.

“You know I am capable of sitting on my own, yes?” He groused but Bull just laughed against his shoulder.

“I'm sure you are, but maybe I'm not. Considered that?” Bull pressed a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder, and he relaxed into the larger man's chest, “I missed you, you know. Boston's full of assholes and American's, wished you were there with me every day.” 

“Missed you too, Bull,” Dorian mumbled, and sighed in contentment when soft kissed were trailed over the expanse of his neck, “Really, really missed you.” 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Bull's words were muffled against his skin but they still made him tense suddenly. Bull sighed, “I'm not saying you have to, not now and not ever, but if you'd like to I am here to listen.”

“I...” Dorian started, but couldn't get the words to come together in his head, “I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't have anything to do with you, it's. Family.... stuff.”

“Such an elegant choice of words,” Bull teased and the smaller man snorted.

“Fuck off,” Dorian grumbled making Bull laugh. His laugh turned into a gaping, jaw cracking yawn and Dorian snorted, “Sorry for boring you.” 

“Not your fault I was up at three for little apparent reason,” Bull mumbled and Dorian didn't laugh like he'd hoped he would. He seemed hesitant if Bull had to put a word on it.

“Would.. would you perhaps be amenable to a nap?” Dorian asked in an unsure voice. 

Bull grinned, “A nap sounds great, particularly if you're involved.” 

That was how Bull found himself between Dorian's beige sheets with the smaller man pressed into his side. They had rarely simply slept next to each other, if ever, and in Bull's memory they had never shared a bed if it was not simply a convenience after sex. Not that he minded, Dorian was hot and looked damn good worn out and sleepy after a solid fuck, but having the smaller man pressed into his side now did nothing but make Bull want to hold him tight and never let him go, for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. He was falling, hard, though if he was being honest about it he had been from the minute Dorian took him to that tiny little sushi restaurant at three in the morning. The smaller man fussed, drawing Bull from his thoughts, “What is it Kadan?” 

“Put your hand back,” was mumbled against his chest and Bull realized he'd moved his hand from its place on Dorian's lower back. He chuckled and did as he was told, heart aching a little for the sated, pleased little sound Dorian made when he did. Oh he had it bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time to let you know that however happy sappy this ended it probably won't stay that way, yeah. Also, with the Kadan thing, I haven't really figured out where Bull is from which is why I'm going with that just fyi. Hope you're all enjoying!


	3. Ere it will be less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast  
> In a field I looked into going past,  
> And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,  
> But a few weeds and stubble showing last. 
> 
> The woods around it have it - it is theirs.  
> All animals are smothered in their lairs.  
> I am too absent-spirited to count;  
> The loneliness includes me unawares. 
> 
> And lonely as it is, that loneliness  
> Will be more lonely ere it will be less -  
> A blanker whiteness of benighted snow  
> With no expression, nothing to express. 
> 
> They cannot scare me with their empty spaces  
> Between stars - on stars where no human race is.  
> I have it in me so much nearer home  
> To scare myself with my own desert places.  
> \- Robert Frost, Desert Places
> 
>  
> 
> I'm so sorry.

Dorian awoke a few hours later curled up on Bull's chest and feeling better rested than he had in weeks. Heat radiated from where a large hand rested on his lower back and he pulled himself closer to the larger man's side with a contented sigh. Bull stirred then, mumbling something Dorian couldn't make out and bringing his other hand up to play with Dorian's hair. It was relaxing, having blunt nails lightly scrape over his scalp, and Dorian nuzzled into Bull more in response. He pressed a kiss over the other man's ribs and got a soft hum for it.

 

The hand resting on Dorian's back slowly slid downwards until it rested on his ass, and Dorian sunk his teeth into Bull's ribs in retaliation. Bull chuckled, “Morning big guy.”

 

“You realize it's probably mid-afternoon at this point right?” Dorian grumbled against his skin and Bull twitched a little.

 

“Your moustache tickles, you know.” Bull squeezed his ass a little harder for it and Dorian just smiled.

 

“Didn't know you were ticklish, Bull. You really should have told me sooner, I'd have bought a feather,” he replied, and pulled himself up a little.

 

Bull took his movement as opportunity to slip a thigh between Dorian's, and when he rocked Dorian against his leg with a squeeze on the ass the smaller man whimpered a breath onto his skin. Sharp nails dug into Bull's ribs as Dorian nipped his way across his chest, leaving little red marks behind that they both knew would be purple tomorrow; a constellation on his skin to remind him of all the perfect things that made up Dorian Pavus. As Bull sat up, Dorian shifted to straddle his thigh until they were pressed nearly chest to chest and Dorian could grind down against Bull slowly.

 

Dorian tipped his head back to allow the larger man to dot his neck with kisses, each one pressed like little I-missed-yous against his veins until the only thing clear in the fogginess of his mind was Bull. The hand on his ass had slid up to his hip, rocking him more solidly and Dorian groaned, “Please, Bull.”

 

“Please what, darling?” Bull murmured into his ear, and he shook a little.

 

“Just please, Bull,” Dorian whined, voice breaking over the older man's name and dug his nails into Bull's shoulders.

 

“Well alright, if you missed me this much...” He leaned forward and sucked a bruise into Dorian's neck, chuckling against the skin when the smaller man shuddered, “Now what do you want, Dorian? Want me to fuck you slow and sweet until you're shaking with it?”

 

“Yes, please, yes Bull that's what I want now,” Dorian broke off with a groan as Bull squeezed him through his boxers, “Oh, fuck. Please?”

 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. I need you to lay down on your back, alright?” Bull patted his hip and Dorian removed himself without a word.

 

Lying on his back, Dorian watched contently as Bull slid off the bed to rummage the side table drawers for lube and condoms. Items found, Bull returned to the bed and was greeted by a kiss, Dorian grinning against his mouth as he pulled the larger man on top of him, “Come on old man I don't have all day.”

 

“You got somewhere to be, boy?” Bull ground their cocks together, growling into his neck.

 

“Yeah, actually, this hot guy I met in London promised he'd fuck me 'til I couldn't talk,” Dorian was rocking up into him, voice breathy.

 

“You're already pretty speechless, you sure you need my cock sweetheart?” Bull emphasized the words with a thrust and Dorian outright whined.

 

“Yes! Oh please, fuck. Please I need your c-cock in me, I'll be good please...” Dorian begged and Bull wasn't sure where it had come from but he wasn't going to deny the man his game.

 

“Hmm, well, it would be a crime to say no to a little boy who begs so pretty,” Bull drawled against flushed skin, “Roll over for me boy, I'm going to eat you out, okay?”

 

“Yes, yes thank you sir,” Dorian mumbled as he twisted out from under Bull to lay on his stomach.

 

Bull suppressed a growl at those words, but he couldn't stop the heat that flooded through his veins at them. They needed to talk about it, should have done so before this, but Dorian was whining impatiently and Bull couldn't be bothered to bring it all to a halt because he was (probably) being paranoid. The fact that Dorian laying himself out like a buffet for Bull to pick at wasn't helping the clearness of his thoughts either, and damn it all if he shouldn't want it but the prospect of Dorian calling him daddy had him harder than he'd been in years.

 

The last time he'd done this with Dorian was the first time they'd fucked, and that had been hot, drawing an orgasm from him with naught but his tongue and a few strokes, but this time it was different. He was hungry for it, starving and finally brought a plate of his favourite dessert. His teeth dragged over the sensitive flesh of Dorian's ass before nipping at his entrance and the smaller man's whole body jolted.

 

“That's good, please, just like that,” Bull repeated the action just to hear Dorian whimper again but then paused, simply letting his breath tickle Dorian's skin. Dorian shifted uneasily, attempting to push back against Bull's mouth but failing for the strong hands gripping his hips, “Please, please give me more. Please daddy please I want-”

 

Dorian's breath caught in his throat as Bull bit down harder than he had before then soothed the abused flesh with his tongue, pressing in just slightly. A breathy moan slipped from his lips as Bull continued the pattern, and Dorian couldn't help but squirm as Bull slid a finger in next to his tongue and began to rub against his prostate. That single finger retracted to be replaced by the full girth of Bull's tongue, the larger man opening the bottle of lube with his one hand and spreading some on his fingers. He pressed in his forefinger first, pumping it alongside his tongue, adding the second when Dorian began to keen. Removing his tongue, Bull sucked a mark into the skin beside Dorian's entrance then pulled away a little, slowing his hand's movements, “Do you want me to fuck you now? You want daddy's cock filling up that pretty little hole?”

 

“Yes please daddy. I've tried to be good, please daddy I want your cock,” Dorian begged as he gripped the sheets above his head, grinding down onto the sheets a little.

 

“Yes you have been good, such a good boy for me. I'm gonna need you to kneel a bit for me, boy, lift your ass. Yeah that's it,” Bull guided his hips up from the mattress, helping Dorian pull his knees beneath him and keep his legs spread, and ripped open the condom. He rolled it over his dick and coated himself with lube, watching Dorian's thighs twitch as he did so. One hand landed firmly on the smaller man's ass cheek, squeezing where it slapped against soft flesh, and the other stretched up to gather Dorian's wrists and bring his arms taunt along his back. Fingers dug into smaller wrists where they laid against the small of his back, and Dorian arched a little to ease the ache in his shoulders. “You're such a good boy,” Bull cooed as he began pushing into Dorian slowly.

 

Dorian groaned into the mattress as Bull began to thrust evenly into him, slow, calculated thrusts shaking just a little like the larger man wanted it just as much as he did. And he probably did, if the bruising grip on his hips was any indication. With a little shifting Dorian laid his head to the side, weight resting more on his chest with his back arched as it was so obscenely, and moaned louder as Bull began to fuck him harder. The deeper thrusts ground against his prostate in a way that sent little shocks up his spine, while the tension in his shoulders sent pain down to meet it in a dizzying combination that had him gasping. He wanted, and he wanted bad, though what exactly it was he wanted he couldn't say. That may have had something to do with the cock in his ass. The hand around his wrist tightened as he was pulled back a little onto Bull's cock, the harsh motion spilling moans from both men's lips. Dorian fell into a haze of 'yes fuck me' and 'please' and other little litanies while Bull sung his praise from behind him.

 

“Fuck, such a good boy, taking daddy's cock so well,” Bull's voice shuddered a little and Dorian pushed back on his dick with all the leverage he could find, “ So good for me my little boy. So sweet for me, mine...”

 

“D-daddy, fuck,” Dorian shook with the mounting pressure, his cock twitched and so did something in his stomach. Those words, they struck something deep, a want he hadn't faced in a long time; the want to be owned, to be seen like a prized possession, slithered through him and an older, different voice spilled from the depths of his mind, ' _You're mine to control, you always will be. My little boy who will do everything I want him to,_ ' and then everything was wrong. He shook but it wasn't from pleasure, it was from the twisting knife in his stomach, cold pain spreading through him. Bull's voice tugged at the edges of his mind and he was drawn partially back to reality. He was being fucked, slow but hard, a hand was around his throbbing cock and it all felt so good, but his brain made if feel sickening. 

 

He came screaming 'Daddy' and it churned his stomach like he was a whore being used for someone's entertainment, not even calling him by his name. Then Bull was growling praise into his ear and it made him feel sick. He hated it, all of it, and he both wanted to run away, to stop Bull and talk to him, but also didn't want to push him away because of a bad memory. The only thought that made him sicker than Bull's hand's around his wrists and hip was that of asking him to stop for the sake of something so trivial. He couldn't bear disappointing him like that.

 

Bull pulled away, releasing Dorian's wrists and starting a little when they were immediately retracted from his grip. Something was wrong and he wasn't sure what. He moved to embrace Dorian, placing a hand on the small of his back only to have the man jump away from him suddenly, like he'd been burned, and wouldn't turn to look at him when Bull prodded his side.

 

“Dorian, did I do something I shouldn't have? You can tell me, you know, when it happens,” Bull tried to be gentle with his words but his chest was aching. He'd fucked up somehow. Dorian had been fragile and Bull should have stopped to ask questions, to make sure he was okay, but he hadn't and now he'd fucked it.

 

“I suppose I am being quite rude, jumping away like that. Sorry, I am alright.” Dorian's words were stiff and formal, like he'd erected some wall around himself that Bull wasn't getting through no matter what. Despite his words he didn't turn to look at the man behind him.

 

“Please look at me Dorian,” Bull all but whispered, a cold wave spreading through his stomach.

 

“I'd rather not, no offence to you,” Dorian muttered.

 

“Dorian I want to see that you're alright, not just hear it, please,” Bull tried to reason with Dorian, though it felt more like he was arguing with himself. He hadn't been able to see Dorian's face and that was why he misjudged it. But who's fault was that, hmm?

 

“You really don't need to fuss over me, I'm fine.” Dorian's voice was blank and it made that cold feeling in Bull's gut harden to ice. He almost wanted to throw up but thought maybe it would all be ice crystals that would shred up his throat.

 

“Are you really, I know this whole thing is new to both of us but you've never denied me a cuddle before,” Bull hoped he could lighted the mood with a bit of a joke but it all sounded wrong, his voice stiff and thick and when Dorian didn't turn around he couldn't really blame him. Bull had fucked up and he had no right to blame Dorian. The ice in his gut melted suddenly with the force of his inward-directed rage and Bull shook as he got off the bed and threw on his clothes, “I suppose I'll go now, then.”

 

He stalked out of the room, leaving Dorian naked and empty in the bed. The smaller man listened as Bull left, door nearly slamming behind him, then listened to the silence that filled his apartment afterwards. Alone, he knew this, it was familiar and though not an old friend he enjoyed the return of, one he had grown to expect. Nothing good ever came of what he wanted – what he loved. Friends never stuck around longer than they had to, and Krem and Sera would stick with Bull when it came down to it. Lover's never did much else then take until there was nothing left, then leave. He supposed it was kind of Bull to at least play at caring, but those words had sounded hollow to Dorian's ears and that possessiveness still left him shaken.

 

Perhaps had he the energy or care he would blame his father for this mess, for his aversion to all things emotionally binding, but he could not even though Halward's words still streamed through his head like some dumb pop song he'd heard on the radio too many times. By tomorrow he would be functional enough to get back to work, and at least he had some food in his house now, leftovers from brunch earlier. Dorian lay peacefully on his bed, resigned to his future, and let himself fall into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'll be honest the reason this took me so long is because it was so hard to write. I hope it was okay, and if I need to add any tags that I haven't already, let me know because I'm not sure exactly what applies. In other news, I hope all my fellow Canadians are enjoying Canada day, though it isn't the nicest weather in Vancouver today at least it isn't raining. Love y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay next chapter will be up soon, I hope. Probably over the weekend some time and I honestly can't say it will be happy, I'm sorry I have far too much of a heart for terrible things and sadness. As Varric would say, that probably says something unfortunate about me personally, but what can I do eh? I promise I won't let Dorian suffer... too much.


End file.
